


Mending bonds

by BlueRue



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 00:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18109637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRue/pseuds/BlueRue
Summary: My take on the situation with the Combaticons after the Spare Part Incident, with a lot of artistic liberty because a lot about this situation never really made much sense to me and depending on the timeline we're in it's a thing that changes.In this timeline, the Combaticons have been a team since Cybertron, I think of Fall of Cybertron to be canon here and the Combaticons are pretty much loyal to Megatron until he installs loyalty programming in them. All in all, under this the Combaticons have been through a lot and just selling off your only teammates when you're surrounded by potential enemies makes no sense, so what exactly did happen?





	Mending bonds

**Author's Note:**

> ooc Onlsaught and Swindle ahoy!

Something had changed.

Well, _of course, it had_. There was no way in the slagging pit it wouldn’t have.

After Swindle’s betrayal of selling them as spare parts, the bond the Combaticons had so carefully been guarding had been torn apart, thrown on the ground and trampled all over on. No one could believe that the little devil, greedy as he was, would go as far as selling his teammates like that. The imminent beating that had awaited Swindle when his gestalt mates came back out of stasis lock was no surprise to anyone, not even Swindle.

It took them weeks to not march right up and punch his lights out every time they saw him and it took them months to even glance his way without hate or yell angry words at him after that.

The trust that was once there was now completely gone.

The fact that they had been able to pull off suicide missions, tasks that were so impossible that everyone thought they were insane to even try, just for them to emerge victoriously, was because they had one hundred percent faith in one another. They trusted and depended on each other, not that they would ever admit it aloud, there was no questioning if one of them could pull anything off.

When on the field, they moved as one, they secured each other and saved the mission, they were the first and last line of defense and attack. When home on base they fragged one another off, pushed buttons and pulled pranks that drove each other mad. But it was all to outweigh the scale of war and give them room to breathe. They knew what the others needed and they were all prepared to provide.

Yes, they drove each other crazy.

But they all knew, that if anyone had it out for one of them, whoever it was would be answering to all of them.

As they were right now, if Swindle got in trouble with anyone he would be on his own, none of his teammates would be rushing to his aid.

Hell, they couldn’t even form Bruticus.

Something had changed, _for all of them_.

But most of all for Swindle.

Onslaught had been too furious; he had lost count on how many times he had almost deactivated the smallest Combaticon. How many times he had begun lecturing him just to get lost in his rage and beat him within an inch of his life. He had been so angry, felt so betrayed that it had taken him a long time to see it.

Even when the way Swindle had refused to fight back against had struck him as odd, he had simply delved into the pleasure of his fist meeting the jeep’s face. It had been what he needed and he didn’t want to let the con-mech sweet talk him or play his mind games on him.

But no, the more time went on and his anger gave way the more he started to notice.

Something about Swindle was off, more so than expected.

Maybe it was the way he skulked into the background, whereas he before would have strutted ahead of them, attempting to charm whatever misfortunate fool that he had made his target, he was now hardly anywhere to be seen, or heard.

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that the number of deals he had made since their reactivation could be counted on one hand. His optics seemed dull and even the sweet talk of looting their enemies for special brand parts could only put the spark back into them for a little while.

It almost felt as if he was defeated, as if he was _broken_.

The bond they shared would usually allow them to know how each other was doing, allowed them to communicate on a far deeper level than normal people and dig into the feelings the other teammates were experiencing. They usually didn’t use it, most of them saw it as an invasion of privacy, a way for the others to feel their weakness. None of them liked it, but it had its uses and that was why it was open between them just slightly clammed up. While that still went for most of the team, Swindle’s end of the bond was completely closed off. Like he had built a wall around himself, shutting everyone else out.

When Onslaught first had found out he had felt his rage resurface. How dared that little pit-spawned devil shut them out after everything he had already done?

They had asked him, demanded an explanation, an excuse, _anything_.

And Swindle, their backstabbing con-bot, the very bot that would make up lies on the fly and bend any situation to his advantage with a few pretty words, their Swindle, had given them _nothing_.

Not a word had he muttered, no lies, no excuses. Nothing but silence. It was at this point they had figured out just how much Swindle had closed himself off. No matter how much they prodded and threatened or pushed, not even at the bond where Swindle had been one of the first of them to open up, he wasn’t budging.

Even when Vortex had gone interrogator on him, toeing it right at the edge of it being lethal, almost losing his cool if Onslaught hadn’t stopped him, Swindle had given him nothing but resigned silence. He had been prepared for the consequences of not talking, he _knew_ how Vortex worked.

He had made it clear, what had happened from the moment they went into stasis lock, whatever that had possessed the son of a glitch to sell them off, to betray the bond they shared, and whatever that had happened in between that and getting them back online, he wasn’t sharing.

But even without having the bond, Onslaught could tell it was tearing him apart.

That was the first time after reactivating that Onslaught had truly realized just how defeated his comrade looked, and he had had that look in his eyes even _before_ they had rained pain down on him. Onslaught had for the first time been scared, not for himself but for Swindle, whatever had happened while he was gone had almost crushed his soldier.

And a Combaticon was not easily crushed. A Combaticon did the crushing.

It left a tight feeling in his tank. There was a crucial bit of information here that Swindle did not want them to know about, and he was prepared to go down for it.

Even when he picked back up his job of handling clients and getting them equipment, more to appease Megatron than anything else, it had been a slow process and he lacked his usual _“bargaining ‘till his client literally couldn’t give any more.”_

It was why he sat now, alone in the cargo bay, boxes, and equipment surrounding him, hiding his small form from prying eyes. Blaster in hand, loaded and ready.

It was here Onslaught had found him one early morning while going over their supplies himself since he didn’t want to waste time asking someone else to it and hear them complain about it.

Brawl had informed him a week after their return to base that Swindle was no longer sharing quarters with him. That hadn’t been so strange given the circumstances, especially since Brawl had been the most relentless about giving him a beating. No one had questioned it when Swindle had separated himself from them only seeming to show up when he was needed. But still, no one had known where the jeep had snuck off to.

Until now.

It was clear as day as Onslaught regarded the curled up form. He trusted no one.

And while something in Onslaught was still very angry, very distrustful, he knew. He knew that Swindle’s side of the story would clear up everything. He hoped it would.

Swindle hated Megatron, he hated Starscream even more, usually, he would take every opportunity to bash the narcissistic seeker, the only ones he had ever seemed to care about was his teammates. Even if he did toe the line with them too. It simply didn’t make sense that he would sell them off like that. Leaving himself surrounded by enemies. Nothing about any of this made any sense and that was what bothered Onslaught most.

He had three comrades that were pissed off as all hell, so caught up in their own fury and hurt that they couldn’t see what was going on in front of them, a leader whose only concern was if they could combine, a second in command who gave him a smug and all too _knowing look_ every time he looked his way and one teammate who was so beaten and downtrodden with whatever secret he was keeping that he looked like he might just-

Swindle was stronger than he looked, he had proven that. He shouldn’t start doubting that now.

Onslaught prided himself on the fact that he knew his team. He had seen them at their best and at their worst, he knew when they were up to no good or when they were in over their heads. He knew what made them tick.

And Swindle? While he was a sneaky, money-driven, backstabbing, egotistical, annoying glitch with a severely lacking moral compass, while he would and could make you wonder if selling your own carrier was a good deal, there was only one thing that would make Swindle sell out his teammates, the very teammates that he relied on.

One thing only.

Desperation.

Which meant that the decision to sell their parts had been the lesser of two evils. Which only made Onslaught want to know, so much more, what the alternative had been.

A pang of guilt washed over him. Swindle was the youngest of them, he was still cunning and dangerous and had earned his place on the team more times than Onslaught wanted to admit. But the con-bot had a bug in his processor; you couldn’t go this long in war without developing something. It was a nasty thing, a whisper in his head that made him second-guess and weak and in turn, made him look to his teammates for _something_. Inspiration, motivation, insight, _comfort_.

He had confided this in Onslaught one night after too much high-grade. He still remembered it clearly, a successful mission, nearly all of them tipsy, happy and on the brink of recharging in the bar they had been occupying.

A good night.

Despite having been in stasis lock, Onslaught couldn’t help but feel that he should have been there for Swindle, that he let this happen by not having his back against whatever the jeep had tackled while his comrades had been in such a poor state.

But Swindle wouldn’t tell, and the more time that passed, the further he drifted from them, the more Onslaught started to think this was a secret their youngest member would take with him to the Allspark. Maybe he would never let them in again, never trust them enough to share what had happened.

Something had changed, something was broken.

But as he picked up the exhausted bot in his arms and watched him clutch onto him as if his life depended on it.

He knew they could still mend the bond between them.

He would figure out what had happened eventually and when he did, he would murder whoever had dared hurt his gestalt mate.


End file.
